Never Forget
by railise
Summary: Collection of drabbles and flash fics featuring most of the characters, spanning all three series; mostly humor, a couple drama.
1. Go Fish

**Go Fish: Team Castle Edition**

"Go fish."

Allan drew a card. Marian smiled at him. "Do you have any threes?"

"You sure you can't see my hand?" he asked, flicking a three to her.

She glanced at Guy. "Do you have any queens?"

He flung his hand down. "What am I doing?" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"You said you were bored," Marian pointed out.

"I'm going to see if there are prisoners to torture," he muttered, turning to go.

"Nah, Robin freed 'em all," Allan piped up.

With a sigh, Guy plopped back down. Picking up his cards, he told Marian, "Go fish." 

**Go Fish: Team Forest Edition**

"Go fish."

"I'd rather not," Little John grumbled.

Djaq shrugged. "Why don't you hunt, then?"

"No."

"Well, what _do_ you feel like doing?" Robin asked.

Little John shot him a Look. "If I knew _that_, I wouldn't be bored."

"You could always make arrows," Will suggested.

"Or help scrub pots," called Much, as he worked on some cheese which had stubbornly baked onto his favorite one.

"No, and no." John flopped back, arms folded across his chest.

"We could use another alarm along the North Road," said Will.

"No."

"Then I'm back to my original suggestion," Robin sighed. "Go fish."


	2. A Weekly Appointment

**A Weekly Appointment**

Guy stepped into the confessional.

Three hours later, he emerged again, a scrap of parchment in hand. This time, he'd thought to bring it and a piece of lead to jot down his penance; usually, it was difficult to make sure he wasn't skipping any Pater Nosters or Ave Marias.

As he glanced at his list, the priest staggered out of his box, pale and sweating profusely, a haunted look in his eyes. The man braced himself against the doorframe and mopped his head with an already-damp handkerchief.

Guy gave him a smile and a nod. "Until next week, Father?"


	3. Excuses

**Excuses**

When Djaq finally arrived at camp, three hours after she was supposed to be back, she was immediately set upon by the others.

"Where have you been?" Will demanded.

"We've been worried sick!" Much declared.

Little John gave her a nod and a "what they're saying" shrug.

Startled at their intensity, Djaq hesitated before replying, "I... There was a mother, giving birth-" She was cut off by a collective sound of disgust.

"That's not funny," snapped Much.

Disappointment shone in Will's eyes. "If you don't want to tell us where you were, just say so."

"Yeah, if you're gonna give an excuse, at least make up your own," Allan muttered.

After they had all gone back to what they had been doing before her arrival, Robin came over. "If there's anything wrong, I hope you will let me know." With a friendly pat on her shoulder, he resumed his seat.

Speechless, she glanced around at her friends, but they were all studiously ignoring her. With a shake of her head, Djaq retrieved a clean set of clothing and made her way to the stream to wash up.

How was it that men could be so obvious, and yet so oblivious?


	4. Belief

**Belief**

She had always known that Allan A Dale would make something of himself.

Even when her mother childed her that she was wasting her time, trying to keep that boy out of the noose, she knew that Mum was wrong. And she told him so, told him that she believed in him. She believed he could make something of himself, do something worthwhile.

Perhaps, he did not care what the neighbor girl thought. Possibly, he and Tom laughed at her; she always made sure to steer clear of that other boy, though. At least, if Allan was ridiculing her, it was behind her back. Tom was liable to do it to her face, and that was one of the many reasons she had no such hope for him.

Years later, when the stories reached her, she felt a swelling of pride. Most of it was because he was doing something important.

But a little of it was because she hoped that, just maybe, he had taken her belief to heart.


	5. Confidence

**Confidence**

Robin had done many things throughout his life, some of them morally questionable even before he left for war. He had defied the rules on numerous occasions, placing himself in line for punishment if he were to get caught.

Occasionally, he was. He had dealt with punishments before.

But this was a whole new level of daring. It lacked the serious overtones of battle, although the stakes were nearly the same. However, he had presented the whole thing as a lark of sorts, and if he did not uphold that manner, it was sure to fail.

Grinning at his comrades with a confidence he did not feel, he nodded and jumped down in front of the cart, his heart hammering in his chest. Aiming his bow calmed him, and he managed to call, "This is an ambush!" in such a carefree way that he almost believed it, himself.


	6. Brilliance

**Brilliance**

She had been pulling cons as long as she could remember. She learned her techniques from her mother, eventually surpassing that woman in skill and beauty- the more one had of the latter, the less one needed of the former; however, she was possessed of both.

Still, impersonating an abbess was a new game. When he suggested it, she thought he was mad... and then, she could not stop laughing at the brilliance of the plan.

They would be wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. Ensuring that her robes were in appropriate disarray, she staggered out of the forest, toward Nottingham.


	7. An Unpleasant Pleasantness

**An Unpleasant Pleasantness**

The latest meeting of the Black Knights had apparently gone very well. The sheriff's coffers were brimming over, with only a fraction of that money due to Prince John. So much was going well for Vaizey, in fact, that he was being kinder than usual to his guards. He had only concussed three that week, and two of them had actually been promoted.

Despite the fact that it may well be the best time since Edward was sheriff to be employed at the castle, the guards were beginning to consider looking for alternate jobs. Facing the skills of the outlaws and the ire of large groups of peasants was one thing, but watching the sheriff skip around the castle walls, humming under his breath and _smiling_- well, it was just unsettling.

If he did not shove one of them from the parapets soon, there might be trouble...


	8. The Weaver's Granddaughter

**The Weaver's Granddaughter**

Kate hated pottery.

She hated the texture of the clay, the heat of the kiln, the smell of the glazes. She hated the entire process of making the stupid things, and she hated her mother for being so determined to carry on with it after her father passed away. Rebecca had never liked pottery, either, learning the trade out of practicality and love for her husband. Her own father had been a weaver, which appealed to Kate far more than shaping pot after bloody pot. It showed, too, that neither one of them enjoyed what they did; Rebecca got more difficult to live with as each year passed, and the same held true for Kate.

Matthew, on the other hand, loved it. He could be found in the workshop well into the evenings, using the last smidgen of daylight to finish a project, and was the first one out the door in the mornings, sometimes just after sunrise. It was probably a good thing that one of them was so happy to be there, since he could often buoy the women's spirits; however, there were plenty of days when it was all Kate could do not to dump a lump of clay on his head.

But, everyone had their lot, and unless and until it was possible to explore another way of making a living, they were making pots. With a heavy sigh, Kate painted a thick, blue stripe onto a pot. She wanted to daydream about something else she could be doing, but was not even sure what to imagine. If she were willing to get married, she could easily get out of this blasted workshop; however, that thought was not remotely appealing. A husband would want her to be obedient, or at least occasionally acquiescent, and she simply could not see herself taking to that well.

Impatiently, she slapped a bit of red glaze on the next pot.

She would just have to figure out what she wanted, and forge her own way. Anything would be better than this.


	9. An Understanding

Guy watched as Vaizey stroked the head of the falcon sitting on the thick, leather arm guard. Master and bird regarded one another for a moment, and it was as if an understanding passed between them.

It wouldn't be surprising, Guy mused. Both were ruthless hunters, focused on their prey, willing to tear it to pieces once they caught it. Neither was easily veered from their path. Both had a pride that would never break.

"Gisborne, it's time. Gather your men."

Sheriff and lieutenant regarded one another for a moment, and it was as if an understanding passed between them.


End file.
